please & thank you
by Ferdinand with Flowers
Summary: pass it on to the left hand side /Ultimecia\Seifer/


PLAY

* * *

It all starts with a heart-shaped box of chocolates; exquisitely crafted by only the finest, the crème of the crop as they say, of confectioners in all of Dollet. Such confectioners use the cheapest ingredient in their repertoire to make their product feel whole. Love.

One of these is chocolates is being inspected by the golden eyes of Ultimecia, held precariously in between two scarlet nails. Slowly piercing into dark flesh, bleeding a light brown liquid.

Seifer is kneeling like a dog down at her throne, staring up at her golden throne in the sky, watching the strange ritual with a look only professional shrinks can call 'hesitant bewilderment.' An opened box of chocolates is resting idly on the cold and dusty marble floor, the lid is upside down some mere inches away. It, with its fuzzy red and black velvet design, separate both residents in the dark, unkempt throne room.

And suddenly, she sneers at the thing in between her nails, eyes shifting and locking onto the baby blues of her servant with an unbridled rage. Ultimecia chucks the chocolate at Seifer, and, BULLS-EYE, it hits his forehead clean on, and falls to the floor where it bleeds to death on the cold and dusty marble floor.

"I don't like caramel."

* * *

REWIND

* * *

It's not sex, he reminds himself as he shares her bed. Covers half wrapped around his naked torso while he's laying on his side, staring into Ultimecia's golden eyes. The bed is carved out of the sturdiest of wood, crafted by artisans in Balamb with hands that knew the meaning of exquisite taste. Artisans who knew the secrets for carving something only the most regal of Nobles would crave. The room, however, is nothing compared to the bed.

Cobwebs and the scent of dust linger in the open air. It smells of rot, though Seifer does not know what is rotting.

But such trivial things are not important.

It's not sex, he keeps telling himself. It's not sex. _It's not sex. _It's just-

"Not sex," the purple tribal markings on her skin move in tandem with her lips. He's always thought they were beautiful, the way the markings start at her lips and travel all over her body. How each intricate stroke would tell a story of its own, if you would all but just. Listen. To their words.

She is naked be_for_e him, though she is not naked _for_ him.

His finger moves with its own accord, tracing and following a pattern on her flesh, getting lost in a purple labyrinth. Seifer's eyes are not on Ultimecia's anymore. They are getting lost on their own in her flesh. She claims that she cannot feel his touch, and he believes her, because, why would she lie?

Ultimecia is staring deep into Seifer's face, studying as he gets lost and makes his own path on her flesh.

She wrinkles her nose in disgust.

* * *

STOP

* * *

And he listens. His finger stops. Too late to go back now. The path was shut off as soon as he entered the markings embellished on her body.

* * *

PLAY

* * *

He retracts his finger as Ultimecia commands him to get on his back. The white sheets fall off his waist as he does so. When he is in the appropriate position, she climbs onto his back, her legs scissoring his waist.

She stares at his back for a second or two, before her nails dig in deep into his flesh. He screams, although, he doesn't know why. There is no pain, but. He guesses. It is considered rude not to scream when someone hurts you.

Her nails clench tightly, before she pulls and rips out chunks of his flesh. She inspects the chunk while Seifer complies with screams and cries, not understanding. Why.

Ultimecia is satisfied with the chunk. How the membranes pulse with dying life, small blue veins decorated here and there. She throws it off to her side with cold indifference; it lands on the cold and dusty marble floor with a grotesque splat. Her nails then dig back into the opened flesh of his shoulder blades, this time swimming around for his bones.

The fact was. It had always fascinated Seifer that his blood would coat her nails a fabulous shade of scarlet, stain the white skin of her palm red, and yet. It would never color the _white_ bed sheets. He's turned his face around to stare as Ultimecia operated on him, coloring her already faded nails by digging into his flesh. He's watched as drops of blood would land everywhere. But. The fact remained. That the sheets were **always** _white_.

Does the blood even land on the sheets?

He's quiet as he contemplates this, and Ultimecia notices.

"Scream for me?" her shrills echo off the dark corners of the room.

He begins screaming for her.

* * *

FAST-FORWARD

* * *

It's not a dream is it?

Fujin is dying on the ground, blood seeping all over the cold and dusty marble floor. There's a bloodied fist-shaped gap on her garden uniform, right over where her heart is. Or should be. Rajin is kneeling over her body, tears trickling down his eyes and falling onto his blood stained hands.

Seifer realizes that Rajin is holding Fujin's heart over her body. And. That it's still beating.

Seifer hears his footsteps reverberate across the castle foyer as he approaches Rajin. He bends his knees as he kneels right next to his comrade.

"What happened?"

Rajin chokes and sobs, before he can say anything.

"Stupid boy, time is but an illusion."

"Phantasmagoria," The corpse on the ground agrees.

Rajin then crushes the heart in his hand, but when he opens his fists, Seifer sees an ocean of chocolates flow out of blood-stained palms.

"Her last words were," Rajin manages to say through his chokes and sobs. His tears become chocolate, and chocolates start streaming down his mouth like gil coming out of a slot machine. He falls back and chokes on himself, dying without uttering a single one of those silly ya'knows.

"I don't like caramel."

The corpse on the floor finishes for him.

It is not a dream. Isn't it is.

* * *

REWIND

* * *

She finds the cartilages of his shoulder blades. The grin on her face moves in tandem with the purple markings etched along the edges of her lips. She pulls out his bones, and Seifer screams.

Although. It's not like he can feel it.

* * *

ST(stupid bOy, time is but an illusion)P REWIND FAST-F(phantasmagOria)RWARD PLAY.

* * *

"I don't like caramel."

Ultimecia whispers as her black wings spread, loose feathers serenely flying through the air and landing on the cold and dusty marble floor.

She descends down from her golden throne. Seifer is kneeling like a dog at the foot of the throne, an opened box of chocolates between them. He waits until she is before him, that scent of rot drifting into the cavities of his nostrils. She commands him to stand, and when he does, she comes in close to him. Ultimecia puts her palms gently against the sides of his face in a loving manner. Her nails softly dig into the tops of his forehead with a ginger feel.

He's looking into her eyes, trying to read something. Although. Stupid b(time is but an illusiOn)y, he scolds himself, when has there ever been anything to read from that woman?

Her golden eyes hold nothing but illusi(phantasmagOria)ns. Her lips move in tandem with those purple markings in a soft smile, as her palms traverse downwards to his neck. Then, in one fell movement, her nails rip out his throat.

Seifer chokes and gurgles as Ultimecia quickly grabs his shoulder blades to keep him from falling over. His whole body spasms as he slowly moves one of his hands over his neck to protect it from another attack.

"Die for me, will you?" she coos softly into his ear. He wants to laugh. She won't let him.

Ultimecia is smiling as she drops him onto her bed.

_Not sex .Not sex. It's just-_

It is. Or isn't it.

The purple markings decreeded that this path was right from the getgo.

He bleeds caramel all over the white sheets, and miraculously, does not stain them red.

* * *

disclaimer


End file.
